Blood Lust
by AmarieC
Summary: Edd's likes blood....


**Blood Lust**

This story is rated T for mild adult content and mild gore, if you can call it that.

Yes my pretties, Double D likes blood, and let him prove it to you with the following short story. Remember, if you hit it, you read it. And if you become confused, don't click out, just enjoy the confusion for it was intentional. On my computer, the font I use was red, but alas, it cannot be taken to this site! It would have been much funner that way. Unlike my other stories, this does not run in chronological order with my other fanfics. This is just a little story inspired by the circumstances of one afternoon of mine, in which I was eating lemons. Mmmm, lemons are so juicy and sour and lemony...

Eat up!

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She was dripping onto the floor, that bright red fluid from her own body. The molecules condensed and... well a little trickle of a drip ran down her right leg, it was so... vivid of a color. Forgetting what it was exactly, I just stared in admiration at such a color. Colors... oh who could invent one more hue? I thought sometimes, when I had nothing better to do, about color. I tried to imagine a different color outside of the known spectrum. Thinking had never hurt that much, for as far as I tried, as hard... I couldn't think of anything, for they all had names. So I gave up on thinking like that for a while, even though I know that a more inventive person most likely could do it. Why was I so limited to what I knew? Was I uncreative? Or was my demand of myself too high? Yes, it probably was too high. But oh, what a beautiful color of red, unlike my red shirt, yes, being richer, deeper, livelier was the color that I was beholding. Did she see the admiration on my face for the blood that was traversing her lanky, pale leg down to her purple foot? Nothing could have been more obvious than the wonder in my eyes, as I glanced over to my mirror above the table we were eating a sort of snack at, with the lemon peels strewn out on the table. Now she felt the trickle, and looked down to her leg where the blood was coming. It came from up her rust-red skirt, and just led me on to wonder what it was like up there... Pant. Alright, there is never a need for interjections such as these in writing, but I must. Pant, that was all I was doing, panting like I was running a hill. She was going to my bathroom now, leaving the door open and pulling sheets of tissue from the roll. I followed, having suffered slightly from the withdrawal of that precious blood she was losing down her smooth skin. I licked my lips, watching her stain the tissue, wiping up the blood. Her face was red as she did this act, and now she was panting... panting from her soft, plush, exquisite lips. What words were there to describe them?! None, for she was just... her lips were perfect. She was about to discard the tissue to the garbage bin, when I leapt forward, taking her wrist and retrieving that tissue from her grasp. She looked at me, sort of drowsily, embarrassed. Why did she need to be embarrassed? What she had shed was entertaining, vividly gorgeous. There was no need to be ashamed of a mishap so welcomed by my fancy. If only she knew how much I adored her for who she was and not for who she tried to be, maybe then she'd understand how delicious this accident was. But, I recall, I have already tried to tell her what she meant to me. Unfortunately, though, it seems that she is still having a hard time believing that I love her. Whatever she doesn't see in herself, I cannot believe anyone could be so insecure. We were just as close as two kidneys, so I leaned forward and kissed her shaking lips. Then my eyes turned viciously upon her blood in the tissue, oh, how pretty it was, lying there in the nestled tumbles of the squeezed paper-fabric. She started stuffing some toilet paper up her skirt, in her panties to stop up the blood. But the blood, it darkened. I sighed, sigh. The blood lost its vivid color to the air. I tossed it, and turned to her. I guess I should have found the situation unsanitary, yet, I basked in... interest. So I kissed her again, and approached her close, to reach my arms around her body and slowly pet her back. Now, if not for our present relationship and for the lust with which she always indulged me, I would never had been so bold in touching her like this. She gave me challenging eyes, and seemed peevish. "Stupid period," she muttered as I massaged the curves of her lower back and slid my hands down the border of her skirt just a safe inch. "It's alright my dear, there is nothing you can do about it, so there is no need to fret." My words were cold to her ears, and she gave me only an obliged kiss back. I watched her pump antibacterial out of the bottle at the edge of the sink and turn on the faucet. She scrubbed her hands repetitively and rinsed away every bubble. But when her fingers accidentally touched the rim of the sink, she pumped more soap and began again in sheer frustration. She, like me, is a bit of a... how do I put it... I don't know if I want to use 'obsessive compulsive' because she doesn't repeat the same actions to feel comfort, just to remove the germs. She bumped the metallic faucet, and had to start new again. Four minutes into her washing her hands, I had to turn it off and give her a gentle scolding for her pettiness. I took the towel from the rack and dried her callous hands carefully. I never enjoyed it when I broke out into this uncontrollable urge to clean something, so I could only help her stop. I always felt like a freak of nature, cleaning things that no one saw, the dirt that no one saw. But I saw it, and it bothered me. I tried to forget it was there- be normal like everyone else- just to find myself running for a scrub and bucket. Sometimes I wonder if it isn't me, if it is everyone else but me. It probably is, they just don't care. She had her eyes on me with such adoration as I dried her dripping hands, and I had to stop and give her another kiss. Her resulting smile was all I needed to throw back the towel to the rack and push her onto the counter. Now, as a hungry individual, I found my pleasure in sucking on her neck. I could not stop my saliva from running over on her. As a mouthwatering steak, she was deliciously flavored and I could not help myself. I never enjoy it when she squeezes my neck like I am the rope she's dangling from, so I put her hands around my waist, which satisfied her in full, as she pet my sides. Her lips are so perfect, and when she kissed me, I had to stop and take in the shivers, and the tremors. I sigh again. "I had never been so close to anyone in my life", this is often said, but I won't say it: I felt it, I knew it. I do not want a pity party for the fact that I have been neglected, because I am not alone anymore. She promised to be my wife, and one day she'll miss her menstruation, and her precious blood won't spill- because love produces. This was our future, and for now, I will give her the kisses that stop her heart- not that this act is humanely possible without fatality. I followed her back into my bedroom, and she sat down in my chair to take up her lemon halve and gouge it as before our little interruption. The acidic liquid burned her callous hands, seeping into the wounded cracks. With a drop of lemon streaming up her arm, I took her and pulled her arm into my hand, where I licked up that drop from her elbow to the palm of her sweet hand. This delicate trickle was so sour, burning my shredded lips. "Mmmmm." She smiled at me, looking up into my eyes as if the little accident from before had not happened. However, I had not forgotten it, but found it so similar to the drop of lemon down her arm. The whole situation had enchanted me. The preciousness of her liquid, she thought she was unlucky to have such things to deal with; but I thought I was lucky, to see such things.

I am not sadistic, and maybe now you understand, that even though it scares me, even though it is unsanitary, even though it involves some portion of pain or inconveniences: but oh how beautiful that rich blood was...

**The End**

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